Vigil
by Unanon
Summary: Transmetropolitan ficlet written for 'Day After Tomorrow' challenge. Conversational: Spider, Filthy Assistants.


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Title: **Vigil**  
Author: Unanon  
Comments: Written for the Day After Tomorrow Challenge. Thanks to for the last minute once-over. Some language...this is _Transmetropolitan_ after all.

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"My dad told me about them [Superstorms]. Back when weather repair started. Rain first and then, no warning, the clouds would suddenly clench down..and then...and then surge forward." - Yelena Rossini, _Transmetropolitan: 'Dirge'_

* * *

"Well fuck."  
  
Spider flicked the remainder of his cigarette over the metal railing and watched the glowing tip tumble end over end into the writhing jumble of humanity forty-eight stories below.  
  
"They're killing each other down there," Yelena observed dryly, taking a drag on her own cigarette, "Not like that's any different from usual though."  
  
"I wrote the story that did this. I'm the one who turned that street into a meat-grinder."  
  
"You only told them the truth. That's what you do." Yelena rested her elbows on the top of the railing and leaned out, "They deserved to know this, Spider."  
  
Spider grunted and slouched heavily against the cold metal. "You should get going."  
  
"Don't be fucking ridiculous."  
  
"I mean it. Beneath my godlike guidance you've grown a healthy journalistic attack womb! It would be pissing on my soon-to-be-tepid grave to let it go to waste."  
  
"We should have left before the story broke." Channon approached from the interior of the apartment. "It's chaos. No one's getting out of the City now."  
  
"It shouldn't be like this, you know. We've already had the goddamn ruinstorms flaying people in the street decades ago. Weather repair claimed to have fixed that. Those monkey-raping ass zits in weather control said we were _recovering_."  
  
"They lied." Channon set a bottle down heavily on the floor and threw herself into a chaise. "So let's get piss-faced and wait for everything to come down."

* * *

"You and Channon could have gone with your father."  
  
"No we couldn't have. He's a determinist."  
  
Spider blinked and reached to open a third bottle "So he didn't leave either."

* * *

"We did ok, didn't we? I mean in the grand scheme of things."  
  
"Why? Do you regret anything?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Then what does it matter?"

* * *

"You know, Assistants, I do have something I regret."  
  
Yelena jerked in mid guzzle, alcohol dripped down her chin and began soaking into her oversized shirt. "What's that?"  
  
Spider passed a fresh cigarette to the cat. "I really wanted to publicly destroy the Smiler with my bowel disrupter. I wanted to masturbate in glee while he shat himself to death in front of his gaping constituents and flunkies."  
  
"You already did that." Channon's voice was muffled from beneath a throw pillow.   
  
"Lies! Horrible whorish lies!" Spider's fingers paused for a moment before he resumed stroking the cat. "When?"  
  
"A while back," Yelena sighed and reached for a fresh pack of smokes. "You don't even want to know what kind of strings Royce had to pull..."  
  
"Irrelevant!" Spider shouted. "Tell me the important stuff."  
  
"Like what?"  
  
"Was it visibly painful and disgusting?"  
  
"Horribly."  
  
"There was cheering involved?"  
  
"Mostly from you."  
  
"Please, _please_ tell me that his corpse was raped and eaten by pustulant stray dogs."  
  
"Yeah, sure. Whatever." Semi-hysterical giggles could be heard from behind the pillow as Yelena lit a fresh cigarette   
  
"Don't fuck with me, oh Filthy ones."  
  
"You have degenerative cognition damage, Spider. How can you know for certain whether we're lying or not?"  
  
"Point taken. Tell me more."

* * *

"Let's tune into a feedsite."  
  
"Christ! Why would we want to do that?"  
  
"Well...don't you want to see what's going on down there?"  
  
"I don't need to see it to know it's bad."

* * *

"Think any of us will make it?" Yelena's voice sounded tinny. Forced.  
  
"Shit no, at least I hope not. I'd rather not spend my final years confusedly wandering, starving in a fucking frozen wasteland until I die and my body's scavenged."   
  
"Scavanged as in eaten, Spider? Eaten?"   
  
"You think that there'll be a long-pig booth selling cloned meat after this hits?"  
  
"Oh. Shit. Yeah." Yelena leaned back and puffed thoughtfully at her umpteenth cigarette of the afternoon. "We could try, maybe. We have Channon's guns, money..."  
  
"All of which won't mean a damn thing in twenty minutes."  
  
"Qi and Royce got away."  
  
"Yes. Yes they did. And I hope they'll be very happy exchanging exotic venereal diseases in my cabin before they begin eating frostbitten bits off each other."  
  
Yelena swallowed hard and reached for Channon's discarded pillow. "So, do you suppose there will be any survivors? Here in the City, I mean."   
  
"There always are." Channon busied herself with gathering empty bottles into a plastic bag before Spider grabbed her wrist.  
  
"There's no fucking point."  
  
She chewed her lip. "Sorry. Habit."  
  
Spider stood up, "I'm going to go have my final shit now and it will be magnificent. No interruptions will be tolerated for any reason whatsoever."  
  
"How about for the end of the world?"  
  
"No. If there is a God he wouldn't dare." He stepped through the doorway but paused at the sound of Yelena's voice.  
  
"Just don't be too long, ok?"  
  
Spider stuck his head back into the room. "Look at it this way, at least we aren't going to perish from an asteroid the exact size and shape of Royce's ass. Now _that_ would be an indignity.

* * *

The screams and sirens in the city below seemed muted, unreal. Beneath his feet the building shuddered in empathy and anticipation. Spider grimaced.  
  
"To me, Filthy Assistants."  
  
They flanked him as the water rushed in.

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fin


End file.
